THE WINNING 
OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY SCOUT 


FT MEADE 
GenColl 


JEWELL BOTHWELL TULL 




Copyright N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



* * 




















































% * 


THE WINNING 


OF THE 

BRONZE CROSS 


THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY SCOUT 


BY 


JEWELL BOTHWELL TULL 



THE EDUCATOR SUPPLY CO., 
Mitchell, South Dakota 


COPYRIGHTED 

1915 

EDUCATOR SUPPLY CO. 


MR 27 1915 

©CI.A398267 


To My Little Brother 
RONALD 

Who, 1 Hope, Will Some Day Win the Bronze Cross. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Knot in the Tie 11 

II. A Scout's Chivalry 18 

III. A Night Under the Stars 27 

IV. The Miser of the Desert 39 

V. Two Heroes 53 

VI. The Miser's Daughter 65 

VII. A Man's Redemption 79 

VIII. Goodrich Creek 89 

IX. Dan's New Patrol 103 

X. How Ezra Got Even 113 

XI. The Counterfeiter 123 

XII. The End of the Pilgrimage 135 


THE WINNING 


OF THE 


BRONZE CROSS 


CHAPTER I. 


THE KNOT IN THE TIE 





THE KNOT IN THE TIE. 


As with a final jerk and rumble the train 
began moving slowly westward from under 
the shed of the Chicago Union station, Dan 
stood at the car window and smiled and 
waved, though something stung his eyes and 
hurt his throat. His mother, who was the 
dearest mother in the world, stood on the 
platform and smiled and waved also. But 
there is no doubt that her eyes and throat 
hurt worse than Dan’s. 

Then Dan sank back into the red plush 
seat and closed his eyes, for he did not want 
to look at the house-tops flashing by as the 
train rushed across the elevated tracks; his 
father worked in one of those factories as 
book-keeper and the family lived in one of a 
long row of brown houses that looked all 
alike. 

His eyes still smarted and he feared he 
was going to cry, which no one who is four- 
teen years old and a Boy Scout should ever 


14 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

do. To prevent such a calamity, he began 
thinking of far-off Idaho to which he was 
journeying. He pictured it as a wild and 
mountainous country that should offer plenty 
of adventure for a Boy Scout. It seemed so 
wonderful that he, Dan MacDonald, who had 
lived all his life in Chicago, should be going 
so far. And he wondered if in that western 
land, his greatest dream would, at last, come 
true, and he would be able to win the Bronze 
Cross which was the highest possible award 
for a Scout. Then his mind wandered back 
over the past year and particularly the last 
few days before his journey. 

It had been a splendid year for him all 
around. In the first place he had finished 
the eighth grade with high honors; he had 
been elected patrol leader by the Boy Scouts ; 
and he had received a Gilt Medal of Merit, 
awarded by the Scoutmaster, for twenty 
marks. Then only a few days ago had come 
the letter from his Uncle Will who was a 
miner and lived in the Seven Devils district 
in Idaho. Uncle Will wanted his father to 
let Dan spend the summer with him. A 


THE KNOT IN THE TIE 


15 


year or so ago, Uncle Will had been in Chica- 
go on business and had visited them for a 
couple of weeks. Dan had liked his good- 
natured uncle so well, and had hear such ex- 
citing stories of Idaho that he was wild to 
go. But it was a long trip and cost so much 
that, although Uncle Will had offered to pay 
a part, his father had shaken his head sadly. 

“I’m afraid we can’t do it, my son. That 
illness of mine last winter has put us back a 
great deal. Mother and I are very sorry.” 

Dan was deeply disappointed ; but a Boy 
Scout must keep smiling and whistling, so he 
marched off down town on an errand for his 
mother, trying not to think of the wonderful 
adventures with wild beasts and Indians 
which he and his Scouts had planned for his 
trip to Idaho, before his father had decid- 
ed. He stopped in the crowded street for 
the traffic blocking his way to pass by when 
something fell from a swiftly moving auto- 
mobile at his very feet. He picked it up, and 
as the whistle sounded he was pushed for- 
ward with the crowd so that he could not see 
what he had found until he had reached the 


16 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

comer. Then he saw that it was a pocket- 
book, heavy with money and bills and papers. 
He thought of handing it to a policeman, 
when his eye caught sight of a card with a 
name and address. The address was not 
in a part of the city known to him, but he 
was sure he could find it and so he decided to 
take back the money himself. 

When he came to the house, he recog- 
nized it as one of those where the very rich 
live. He rang the bell. A grave man in a 
handsome uniform opened the door. Dan 
asked for Mr. Clark, the name on the card, 
and was bowed into a big room, lined with 
books. It was the most splendid room Dan 
had ever seen; but the oldish man who sat 
at the big desk, frowning across at him, did 
not seem to be enjoying it. 

“Whom have we here?” he asked, in a 
growly way. 

“I’m Daniel McDonald, Sir, and if you 
are Mr. C. M. Clark, then this belongs to 
you.” He smiled his best smile and gave Mr. 
Clark the pocket-book. 

Mr. Clark's eye-brows went high with 


THE KNOT IN THE TIE 


17 


surprise and then came down over his eyes 
again. 

“Why did you bring it?” 

Dan thought this a rather queer ques- 
tion, but he explained how he had found the 
wallet. “I did think of giving it to the po- 
lice”, he said, “but then I hadn’t taken the 
knot out of my tie today, so I thought I would 
bring it myself.” 

The eye-brows went up again. “Hadn’t 
taken the knot out of you tie?” 

“You see,” explained Dan, “I am a Boy 
Scout and every day we are supposed to do a 
good turn for somebody. So when we get 
up in the morning, we tie an extra knot in 
our tie to remind us. Today I’ve been rather 
cross and haven’t got the knot untied yet.” 

“What made you cross?” 

Mr. Clark’s tone was more kindly. So 
Dan explained about his uncle and Idaho. 

Mr. Clark pulled out his handsome tie 
and began frowning at it. Then he said : 

“That 'knot’ idea is pretty good. Sup- 
pose I tied one in my tie.” 

“It does help one,” Dan answered. 


18 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Mr. Clark gravely tied the knot and then 
looked up with a little smile at Dan. “And 
now, my young man, how am I going to get 
this knot out of here?” 

“Oh, that is very easy. You just have to 
do some simple little thing — help an old lady 
across the street, or run an errand, or give a 
little child a piece of candy, or — ” 

“Yes, but I can’t do any of those things. 
Suppose — suppose I made a boy happy by 
sending him to Idaho. Would that take the 
knot out?” 

“Oh, but that is too much!” cried Dan, 
his heart beating very fast. 

“It’s the easiest thing I can do,” said Mr. 
Clark. “I have more money than anything 
else to give away, you see.” 

In the end Mr. Clark had taken Dan 
home in his automobile and had talked to his 
mother. And his mother had talked to his 
father. 

Then, at last, it was agreed that Mr. 
Clark should be allowed to take the knot out 
of his tie by buying Dan’s ticket to Idaho. 


CHAPTER II. 


A SCOUT'S CHIVALRY 


A SCOUT’S CHIVALRY 


For several days, that seemed ages to 
Dan, the train had moved over prairie lands 
and sagebrush tracts, until, dreaming of 
Indians with war-paint and feathers, he be- 
gan to be impatient for the mountains. Then 
they, too, had come at last — the wonderful 
Rockies , towering high up into the blue, some- 
times white-crowned with clouds or snow, 
sometimes dark with pine-trees. The train 
wound about rugged cliffs with mountain 
streams dashing over hugh rocks far below. 
And Dan thought that he could see out-laws 
and Indians peering from every crag. 

Then they descended the mountains on 
the other side and came down into a rather 
flat country again. By comparing the little 
stations that flashed by with his railway map, 
he discovered that he was in Idaho. But 
these little sagebrush-covered hills were not 
what Dan had pictured, and he asked, timid- 
ly, of an old gentleman if there were no 
mountains in Idaho. 


22 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

“Plenty of them in the western and 
northern parts,” answered the old gentleman, 
and he hid himself once more behind his 
newspaper. 

Dan’s ticket read “To Weiser, Idaho,” 
which he found was on the very western 
border of the state. There he was to buy an- 
other ticket on the Pacific and Idaho North- 
ern for Meadows where his uncle would meet 
him and accompany him the rest of the way. 
So Dan leaned back more contentedly. 

It had been rather a lonely trip and there 
were few chances to do nice things for people. 
No one stayed on the train for any length of 
time and he had got acquainted with none 
of them. It had been a very hard task to 
get the knot out of his tie. True he had 
helped little boys and girls get drinks of wa- 
ter and once he had held a baby while the 
mother rested for a while. But he was won- 
dering how he could get the knot untied to- 
day, for there was no one in the car but the 
old man who dozed behind his newspaper, 
and a young lady who seemed not to want 
anything in the world but the book she was 


A SCOUT’S CHIVALRY 


23 


reading and the candy she was nibbling. 

Then at American Falls a tired-looking 
woman and three small children got on and 
took a seat across from Dan. They must 
have been very poor from the way they were 
dressed; and the woman's eyes were red as 
if she had been crying. One of the children, 
a boy of four or five, put his chubby hands on 
the arm of Dan's seat and looked at him so 
solemnly that Dan laughed and held out a big 
red apple. The little fellow took it, and still 
very grave, said, “I like you.” 

“I like you, too,” said Dan. 

The mother, hearing the two remarks, 
looked at Dan and smiled. It was such a 
lovely smile that Dan returned it and his 
eyes said plainly, “I like you too.” 

They soon became very well acquainted. 
Dan talked of his mother and his home in 
far-away Chicago. The woman said that she 
was on the way to a town named Payette to 
see a brother who was very ill. 

The conductor came into the car then 
and stopped for her ticket. The woman 
looked into a large bag that she carried. A 


24 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

puzzled look stole over her face. She felt in- 
side the lunch-basket, arose and shook out 
her dress, and called in worried tones to the 
children /‘Ben — Katy — have you seen moth- 
er's purse?" 

The children gravely shook their heads. 

“I'm sure I had it in this bag," she said, 
and looked again. 

Dan, too, began to help her search, while 
the conductor stood by, frowning. They 
turned everything topsy-turvy. No purse 
was to be found. 

“What shall I do?" cried the woman, 
looking up at the conductor, her lips tremb- 
ling. “I must have lost it. All the money I 
have was in it. My brother is dying and I 
must go to him." 

Dan thought the conductor looked as if 
he did not believe her. 

“Did you have a ticket?" the man asked. 

“No. I didn't take time to buy one. I 
was going to pay on the train. I had just 
received the telegram — " 

The conductor shrugged his shoulders. 
“We stop at Napati. You can get off there 


A SCOUT’S CHIVALRY 


25 


and telegraph for more money.” 

“But there isn't any more,” said the wo- 
man with a sad little smile. “I am a widow 
and have to earn all I have, sewing.” 

“Well, I can't help that. You will have 
to get off at the next stop then.” 

The conductor moved on, mumbling 
something about “tricks” and “having seen 
that game played before.” 

Dan felt his cheeks burning with anger. 
The woman looked very pale and sick. He 
leaned over and touched her knee. 

“How far is Payette? Is it as far as 
Weiser?” 

“No,” said the woman. “It is about ten 
miles this side.” 

“Then you could use my ticket, couldn't 
you? Please do. You see I can get off here 
and telegraph my uncle. He is quite rich 
and I am sure it would be all right. Please — 
I would be so glad to have you take it — ” 

Dan stopped, quite out of breath. 

“Take your ticket?” The woman did 
not seem able to understand. “Oh no, I 
couldn’t do that!” 


26 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

“Why not?” pleaded Dan. “Your — your 
brother might die, you know, and I am in no 
hurry at all. I can wait.” 

And finally Dan persuaded her. 

“Oh, if I only could get to him ! I would 
send you the money as soon as ever I could. 
And it would be the very finest thing anyone 
ever did. God will bless you for it.” 

The train came to a stop at a station 
which seemed to be Napati. And as the con- 
ductor came into the car again, Dan picked 
up his suit-case and said rather haughtily to 
him as he passed, “I have given her my tick- 
et, because I believe she is honest. I am 
going to get off here.” And he walked past 
the conductor with his head held high, in his 
best Boy Scout manner. 

The conductor stared. 

The woman and children waved and 
smiled, though they all seemed to be crying, 
and Dan felt again as he had felt when he had 
said good-by to his mother standing on the 
platform. But he raised his hat and smiled 
quite gayly back at them. 


CHAPTER III. 


A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 



A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 


Dan put his suit-case in the waiting room 
of the station and came outside where it was 
not quite so stifling. He walked up and 
down the platform, trying to think out what 
he should do now. The small row of stores, 
and restaurants, and sign-boards that met his 
eye were dingy and lonely-looking, and a 
twinge of homesickness seized him. About 
him everywhere was the sage-brush with 
only a hint of blue mountains in the distance. 
He felt all at once very, very much alone. He 
wondered if he had done the right thing after 
all. Then he was angry with himself for 
feeling so, and, thrusting his hands into his 
pockets, he threw back his head and began 
to whistle until he felt better. After all he 
was in Idaho and therefore could not be very 
far from his uncle. 

He decided he would not write to his 
mother as he had first thought of doing, for 
mothers have a way of worrying when there 


30 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

is really nothing at all to worry about; and 
anyway she couldn't help him now. He had 
told the woman on the train that he would 
telegraph his uncle and that was perhaps 
the best way — and then with a gasp of 
amazement he remembered that there was no 
telegraph office where his uncle lived. Strange 
he hadn't thought of it before. Well, he could 
write — but a letter takes such a long time. 
Then — suddenly Dan laughed aloud till some 
men on the platform looked at him queerly. 
What a silly fellow he was! Why hadn't he 
thought of it before? He had ten dollars 
with which he was to buy his ticket from 
Weiser to Meadows, and enough, besides, to 
buy a little fresh fruit to eat with the lunch 
his mother had given him. He had put the 
money away so carefully that he might not 
lose it till he reached Weiser that he had 
quite forgotten it. Why hadn’t he found out 
how far it was to Weiser? Perhaps he had 
enough to take him all the way, or, anyhow, 
quite a bit farther along. Then he could 
write his uncle, or maybe he would find some 
other plan. And even at that moment some- 


A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 


31 


thing of a plan came to him. It was rather 
wild but it made him happy, and his eyes 
danced. Why should he not walk to the 
next station ? It could not be very far. And 
there was nothing to be gained by lying 
about here, waiting for the next train. It 
was still early in the afternoon and he had 
the whole night before him and a part of 
the next day, if he took a train running at 
the same time as the one he had left. 

He was elated with the idea. So much 
so that he forgot to ask how far it was to the 
next station. 

There did not seem to be anyone at all 
around the little waiting-room of the station ; 
so he decided to change into his khaki scout 
uniform and save from the dust his blue 
serge suit which was his best. In his soft 
low collar and flat-brimmed hat, with his 
knapsack slung across his back, he felt ready 
for anything. 

He crossed the street to one of the little 
grocery stores and bought a can of beans 
and some crackers and cheese. He filled 
the small canteen he carried with water. He 


32 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

still had a few sandwiches and an apple or 
two left from his lunch. 

Then he took his suit-case and gaily 
started westward, following the railroad 
track. There were a few scattered houses, 
and then by-and-by, there seemed none at all. 
Everywhere were little gray-green clumps of 
sage-brush which gave forth a dusty, choky 
odor, and hundreds of jack-rabbits that 
jumped up and scampered away as Dan 
passed by. The suit-case got very heavy 
after a while and Dan almost wished he had 
left it behind. He paused several times to 
rest, and then as the sun went out of sight in 
the west, leaving a wonderful glow of orange 
and gold, he decided to stop for a while and 
warm up his beans. As yet he could see no 
signs of a near-by town but he felt it could 
not be far. When he had rested and eaten, 
he could walk all night if necessary. 

The sage-brush was dry and brittle and 
made an excellent fire, although a little 
“smelly”. He was just beginning his supper 
of beans, sandwiches, and apples, when he 
chanced to glance behind him. And then 
for a long time he forgot to eat at all. Coming 


A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 


33 


toward him from the southeast was a horse 
and rider ! There seemed to be nothing else 
alive anywhere but that horseman and him- 
self and the little jack-rabbits. He almost 
held his breath. There was something ghost- 
like in the way the horse came slowly on 
through the twilight. A twig snapped in 
the fire, and Dan jumped. Then he laughed. 
What was there to be afraid of in a man and 
a horse? He forced himself to eat, while all 
the time he could feel them coming nearer 
and nearer. Then he could hear the horse’s 
footfalls in the soft dirt, and then the foot- 
falls ceased just opposite him. Dan glanced 
up. 

A swarthy-faced man with high cheek- 
bones and little black eyes sat upon the horse. 
His hair was very black and rather long, and 
as Dan looked, he felt sure that this must be 
an Indian. True he wasn’t the kind that Dan 
had expected. There were no war-paint or 
feathers. Instead, the man wore a pair of 
khaki trousers, a dirty shirt open at the 
throat, and a slouch hat. But Dan was con- 
vinced that he was an Indian. 


34 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

“How do you do?” said Dan, and smiled. 

He had a beautiful smile and even an 
Indian should have responded. But the man 
on the horse did not speak. 

“Nice evening,” Dan raised his voice a 
little. 

“Huh,” grunted the Indian. 

“Will you — would you like to have some- 
thing to eat? I am just having supper.” 

The Indian gave a quick shake of his 
head. 

“Water?” he asked. 

Dan handed him his canteen. He drank 
and handed it back. The water seemed to 
loosen his throat so he could speak. 

“Where you go ?” he asked. 

“Meadows,” answered Dan. “My uncle 
will meet me there.” 

The Indian’s shifty eyes gave Dan a 
quick look. 

“You walk?” 

“Oh, no, only to the next town. Then 
I’ll take the train.” 

“Wapi, next town,” said the Indian. 

“Is it far?” 


A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 


35 


The Indian did not answer but, gather- 
ing up his reins, started the horse on toward 
the northwest, and soon he disappeared over 
a little rise in the ground, leaving Dan star- 
ing after him. 

“Well,” exclaimed Dan, aloud. “Well, 
so that's an Indian!” 

He was so busy thinking over the inci- 
dent that he forgot to eat any more ; and by- 
and-by as the stars began to creep out, he de- 
cided to lie flat on his back and rest for a 
while before he again started on his tramp. 

He put his suit-case under his head and 
gazed up at the stars. He remembered a lit- 
tle song that his mother used to sing to him 
and hummed it softly to himself : 

“Oh, little star eyes, look down into mine ; 
Fill my soul with your light divine, 

As you in heaven, so here let me shine, 
Oh, little star eyes, look down into mine.” 

Then he had a queer jumbling of thoughts 
in which an Indian woman with a great 
many children was giving him a long rail- 
way ticket, and all the little children began 
crying for water. Dan gave them all he had. 


36 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Then one little boy wanted his knife. He 
reached down into his pocket for it — . 

Dan started up. It was quite dark. 
Only a few stars could be seen. The fire had 
gone out. He shivered although it was not 
cold. Then he sat very still and stared into 
the darkness. He thought he heard some- 
thing move through the sagebrush. But per- 
haps it was only a rabbit. He packed up his 
knapsack, took his suitcase, and started once 
more down the track. 

It was not long before the dawn began 
to break. He had slept longer than he had 
thought. But he was tired and sleepy still. 
He decided to make a cup of coffee to enli- 
ven him. 

He reached for his knife to cut some 
brush and then in amazement pulled out all 
the contents of his pocket and gazed at them. 
He was sure he had put his money in that 
pocket. He quickly looked through his 
clothes, then his knapsack, then his suit case. 
But the money was nowhere to be found. 

Either he had lost it or — . He remem- 
bered the something he thought he had heard 


A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS 


37 


creeping through the bushes. Suppose — but 
then surely that wasn’t possible. No one 
could search his pockets without his know- 
ing it. Yet — . 

“Well, anyway, it’s gone. And I don’t 
see any town or any house, and I am thirsty.” 

He picked up his canteen. 

“All alone on a desert — water nearly all 
gone — no money — well!” 

Then because he was a Boy Scout and 
brave he threw back his head and smiled. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT. 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


“Een gonyama — gonyama; 

Invooboo ! 

Yah boh ! ya boh ! 

Invooboo !” 

Dan sang the war song of the Scouts to 
keep up his courage which was sinking low- 
er and lower as the sun rose higher and hot- 
ter. 

But the water was all gone from his 
canteen now and his throat was so dry he had 
to quit singing and only think the tune and 
try to keep step with it. 

Then he could not even think — he was 
so thirsty. If only he had one little drop of 
water, but there was none at all. He felt he 
could not make his feet take another step. If 
he should sit down here and wait for a train 
to come by, would it pick him up ? Probably 
not, and, anyway, he couldn’t sit there in the 
hot sun and wait. 

“I must have a drink— I must have a 
drink,” he kept saying over and over in his 
mind. 


42 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

To the left of the track was a little 
sage-brush-covered hill. Dan wondered if it 
would be possible to make his way to that. 
There might be something on the other side. 

But he knew he Could not carry his suit- 
case any farther. He took from it his Gilt 
Medal and pinned it on his shirt. It seemed 
a long time since he had received it, and his 
mother had been so glad for him, and his 
father had patted him on the back, saying he 
was very proud of his boy. And now — but 
he must have water. That was all he could 
think of now. He left the suit-case behind a 
bush and made his way as fast as he could to 
the hill. 

Breathlessly he reached the top and 
looked all about him. At first he thought 
there was nothing to be seen; then he cried 
aloud. 

“A house ! Oh, that must be a house !” 

It did indeed seem as if there were a 
shed, or a low shack of some kind, to the north 
and west, just peeping over the top of anoth- 
er small hill. 

Dan started toward it. He never could 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


43 


tell just how far it was, for it seemed to him 
the longest journey he had ever taken in his 
life. When he had traveled for ages and 
ages and his throat felt as if he would never 
be able to speak again, he found that he had 
crept to the top of the hill ; and when he saw 
a rough board shack with smoke coming out 
of the chimney, and a collie dog curled upon 
the door step, he fairly ran down the narrow 
path to the door, calling gaily, “Hello there, 
doggie.” Then he fell across the step at the 
dog's feet. 

When he awoke, he found himself lying 
on a cot inside the shanty with a little dried- 
up old man bending over him. The man's 
hair and beard were gray and shaggy, but 
his eyes were very keen and bright. 

“Well, that was a silly thing to do,” said 

Dan. 

“What was?” asked the old man. 

“To — to — go to sleep just when I was 
about to get a drink. I was so thirsty ! May 
I have one now, please?” 

“You've had plenty of water, young 
man, both outside and in, for the present. 


44 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Feel your shirt.” 

Dan felt of his shirt. It was all wet at 
the throat. 

“It feels good,” he said. “I began to 
think I should never know what water was 
like again.” 

The man gave him a quick--Dan thought 
a rather suspicious — glance. 

“What are you doing, wandering around 
here on the desert?” 

Dan had not talked to any one for so 
long that he felt it would be a relief to tell 
the whole story. So he told of the poor wo- 
man to whom he had given his ticket, of his 
journey, the meeting with the Indian, the 
loss of his money, and all. 

“Well, you are a queer one,” exclaimed 
the old man, when Dan had finished. “If 
you didn't look so bright and wide awake, I'd 
say you are a fool. Didn’t you stop to think 
what might become of you out here in a 
strange country with only a few dollars in 
your pocket? Do you know how far you are 
from Meadows?” 

“No, sir, but I thought it couldn't be 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


45 


very much farther, and then I had the ten 
dollars — . 

“It's a good two hundred miles or more 
— probably more — and you haven’t the ten 
dollars now. What do you think you are 
going to do?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Dan, looking 
a bit worried. Then his face cleared. “But 
I guess I’ll find a way somehow or other.” 

The old man gave another quick look. 
“Why did you do it in the beginning, any- 
way?” he asked. 

“Well, you see I am a Boy Scout and our 
Scoutmaster used to always tell us that we 
must help any one in trouble in every way 
we could. This was the only thing I could 
do, so — ” 

“What is a Boy Scout?” 

Then Dan told him about the order of 
which he was so proud, even to the knot in 
the tie. 

“What have you still got a knot in your 
tie for? I’d think giving away your ticket 
would take it out for a week.” 

“Oh, no,” laughed Dan. “I have to put 


46 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

a new one in every morning and get it out 
before night. If I were you now,” he went 
on, smiling, “I’d have it out.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Why, didn’t you do a pretty big kind- 
ness by taking me in and giving me a drink? 
— and if you — if you’d give me another drink 
now — ” 

The old man’s lip twitched as if he 
might be going to smile, but instead he went 
to the pail and brought Dan a dipper full of 
water. 

After that they got along nicely. Dan 
helped the old man, who said his name was 
Kelly, to get his evening meal, and they sat 
down together. Dan could not help wonder- 
ing who the strange old man could be, living 
alone in this little shanty in the sagebrush, so 
far from every one, but he did not ask any 
questions. 

The collie dog came into the house and 
stood near the table, expectantly wagging 
his tail. 

“That’s a mighty fine dog you have,” 
said Dan, holding out his hand to the collie. 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


47 


Kelly's eyes lighted. “He can't be beat. 
He's faithful and he's smart — more so than 
a good many humans. When I first got him 
from a man in Wapi, I had to tie him up be- 
cause he wasn't used to me yet. But he'd 
chew that knot in two, sir, and go back to 
Wapi. After a while we got to be good 
chums, eh, Growl? But he never could 
stand to see anything tied up with a rope 
after that. One day I tied old Jerry, my 
horse, to the outside of the stable. Growl 
came along and what do you think he did? 
Untied that rope as neat as a pin, yes, sir.” 
Kelly chuckled and patted the dog's head. 

Then both became silent. After a 
while Dan ventured a question to start con- 
versation once more : 

“It must get pretty lonesome sometimes 
out here. Didn't you ever have any — fam- 
ily ?” 

The old man scowled. 

“I had a wife. She died years ago. And 
I had a daughter, but she's as good as dead 
as far as I'm concerned. She could have had 
anything she wanted. I had money — I had 


48 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

money, I said — I haven't now.” He stopped 
and gave Dan another quick suspicious 
glance. “I made it in Butte, Montana — copper 
mines. Maybe you've heard people in Napa- 
ti talking about a rich old miser who lived 
alone in the desert? Folks about here think 
I got heaps of money hid away.” He chuckled. 
“Just because a man wants to live alone's 
no sign he's rich, is it?” 

“I shouldn't think so,” answered Dan. 
But he began to wonder still more about Mr. 
Kelly. “What became of your daughter, 
sir?” 

“My daughter!” Mr. Kelly frowned. 
“Well, as I said, she could have had anything 
— education, good clothes, and all that. But 
just because I wanted her to marry a fellow 
who was making all kinds of money with 
sheep and who would have been a big man in 
the state some day, she up and ran off with 
a young no-account who didn't have a cent 
and never will — 'cause she loved him, she 
said. I haven't seen her since and I don't 
want to. I told her I was through with her. 
Oh, I've heard about her. She's got two kids 


THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


49 


and they're poor as Job’s turkey, but she 
needn’t come whining to me for money — I 
ain’t got any, anyhow.” He got up sud- 
denly and pushed his chair back from the 
table, angrily. “Ain’t that a nice way for a 
girl to treat her old dad, eh? What you 
think about it?” 

, “I don’t know sir, I am sure. Only, if 
she loved the man and he was good, even if 
he was poor — ” 

“Oh he’s good enough. But he can’t 
support his family. What do you know 
about it, anyway?” he growled at Dan. 

“I don’t know anything, sir, but I’ve 
heard my mother say it was very wicked to 
marry for anything but love, and I — ” 

“You get off to bed, young man. You 
don’t know a thing about it. And tomorrow 
you will have to be deciding about yourself.” 

It did not take Dan long to obey, for he 
was more tired than ever before in his life, 
and although he could not help thinking of 
Mr. Kelly’s daughter and the little kiddies 
and feeling very sorry for them, he soon fell 
asleep. 


50 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


He was awakened by the scratching of 
a match. What time it was he did not know, 
for the cabin was dark and still except for 
another scratch of a match and then a steal- 
thy footstep on the creaking board floor. 

Dan opened his eyes and saw Mr. Kel- 
ly lighting a candle. Then he approached 
Dan's bed, shading the candle with his hand 
and moving quietly. The boy shut his eyes 
and lay as still as possible. The old man 
bent over him, and Dan could feel the candle 
held close to his face. He tried to act as if 
he were asleep, but it was very hard and he 
felt as if he could scarcely breathe. 

The old man seemed satisfied, however, 
that Dan slept, for he moved away and 
placed the candle on the table. Dan's eyes 
were open once more, watching. 

Kelly looked about him, then knelt on 
the floor and raised a loosened board. He 
reached under the floor and drew forth a tin 
box. From this he took a bag which jin- 
gled with silver or gold. He hugged this to 
him and rocked it back and forth as if it 
were a baby. Then he laid it back in the box 



“He drew forth a tin box.” 













THE MISER OF THE DESERT 


51 


and took out a revolver which he examined 
carefully and replaced. He glanced about 
him once more and put the tin box back into 
its place beneath the floor and fixed the loose 
board as before. Then he glanced at Dan’s 
cot and blew out the candle. 

Dan lay very still, but he did not sleep 
much more that night. He had met with a 
sure-enough miser. 



CHAPTER V. 


TWO HEROES 



TWO HEROES 


Both Dan and the miser were rather si- 
lent the next morning. When breakfast was 
over, Dan said, “I guess I had better be mov- 
ing on.” 

“What you going to move on?” demand- 
ed the old man. 

Dan grinned. “Just my feet, I guess.” 

“And your nerve,” said the miser. “No, 
you stay here a bit. Write a letter to your 
uncle. That's the best way, isn't it? He'll 
be looking for you at Meadows about now.” 

Dan knew this was true, and, though he 
felt a little queer toward Mr. Kelly since last 
night, he could not help rather liking the lit- 
tle, keen-eyed old man. 

“Maybe that would be best,” he decided. 

“Of course. I've got a little business 
with a man some miles away. I'll drive over 
this morning and pick up your valise on the 
way. Think I know about where you left 
it. You stay here with Growl and watch 
things.” 


56 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Mr. Kelly departed with his rickety old 
buckboard and gray horse. Dan took the pa- 
per and pencil the miser had given him and 
prepared to write the whole story to his 
uncle. 

It was a rather long story and Dan was 
careful with the writing of it, for he wanted 
his uncle to be sure to understand. He was 
sorry his adventure must end this way, but 
then it might have ended much worse. He 
shuddered when he thought how thirsty and 
hot and tired he had been out there on the 
desert. 

He had been writing for some time when 
a shadow fell across the walk and then a 
figure darkened the doorway. 

He glanced up in surprise; then he sat 
rigid. There in the door, looking at him 
with little beady black eyes, and with his 
slouch hat pulled low, stood the Indian he had 
met on the desert! 

“Where Mr. Kelly ?” asked the Indian. 

“Gone,” said Dan, who had risen. “Will 
you — will you come in?” 

“How long he be gone?” 


TWO HEROES 


57 


“I don't know. Maybe till about noon." 

The Indian squatted down on the door- 
step and seemed to be preparing to wait 
until Mr. Kelly should return. 

The collie dog crept out from under the 
cot where he had been sleeping and began to 
growl, bristling at sight of the stranger in 
the door. 

“Lie down, Growl," said Dan. “It's all 
right." 

Dan was ashamed to admit to himself 
that he felt rather afraid. So far as he knew 
the Indian was perfectly harmless. He had 
only a vague suspicion that the fellow might 
have taken his ten dollars. That was all. 
But he wished, nevertheless, that Mr. Kelly 
would hurry home. 

By and by the Indian arose, and, going 
to his horse which stood patiently nearby, 
he took a rope from the saddle-horn, made 
a lasso of it and began whirling the rope in 
a circle, jumping in and out of it. Dan came 
to the door and watched admiringly. He had 
seen some cowboys in a wild-west show do 
that very thing, and the Indian did it every 


58 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 
bit as well. 

Then suddenly the Indian threw the las- 
so around Dan's head and shoulders, and 
giving it a quick jerk, fastened the boy's arms 
tightly to his sides. Dan was a little start- 
led, but he laughed, thinking it a joke. 

“You did that pretty well,” he said. 

The Indian drew the rope still tighter, 
pulling Dan into the house. There he pushed 
him onto a chair and began winding the rope 
about it and Dan, tying him so he could not 
move. Dan was so astonished that he could 
not speak ; then he began to get angry. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded. 

The collie growled once more, and the 
Indian said sharply to Dan, “You make him 
lay down. You see that” and he pointed to 
a bulging pistol at his side. 

Dan in a very weak voice spoke to Growl 
and Growl obeyed, rather sullenly. 

When the boy was securely tied, the In- 
dian began searching about the room for 
something. He pulled the bedding from the 
cots, looked into tin cans on the shelves, ev- 
erywhere. Dan felt himself grow cold. The 


TWO HEROES 


59 


Indian was looking for the miser’s money! 
The loose board where Dan knew it to be 
hidden was almost beneath the place where 
he sat, bound to the chair. 

If only there were some way to save it. 
But Dan could think of no plan. If he 
should set Growl on the Indian, the Indian 
would shoot and Dan felt that the miser 
would surely rather have his dog than his 
money. 

The Indian, having looked hastily all 
about the house, went outside. Dan could 
see him searching the ground for places 
where the money might be buried. Soon he 
disappeared from sight. 

Dan tugged fiercely at the ropes, trying 
to free his arms. Growl sprang up and came 
over to him, whining. Then Dan remem- 
bered what Mr. Kelly had said — that the dog 
never could stand to see anything tied. 

“Here, old boy, here!” cried Dan. 

The dog, thus bidden, sprang at the rope 
and began chewing at it with his sharp, 
white teeth. 

It seemed a long time, but it was really 


60 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

only a few moments, before Dan could free 
his right arm. He did not wait longer. But 
throwing himself forward and pulling the 
chair on top of himself, he jerked up the loose 
board and pulled out the tin box. Growl 
still tugged at the rope. 

“Wait a moment, Growl,” said Dan. 

He snatched out the money-bag, putting 
it inside of his shirt, and took the revolver. 
He had just struggled to his feet when the 
Indian again appeared at the door. Dan 
pointed the pistol straight at him. 

“Now you stay where you are. This 
gun’s loaded and I know how to shoot. Put 
your hands up over your head.” 

The Indian swore, but he obeyed. 

Growl was still busy with the rope. 

Dan never knew how long he sat, half- 
tied to the chair, keeping the revolver level- 
ed at the Indian and never taking his eyes 
from him. Then, for only a moment, he 
dropped his eyes to speak to Growl who had 
drawn the rope too tightly about his ankles. 
And in that moment the Indian sprang for- 
ward, seizing Dan’s arms. The next moment 


TWO HEROES 


61 


Growl was at the Indian's throat. The 
struggle was fierce but brief. In the wild 
confusion they did not hear buggy wheels 
coming over the sage-brush path. A second 
later Mr. Kelly was inside the house. He had 
seen the horse and knew something was 
wrong. 

“Off, Growl, good old boy," he called to 
the dog, and then he threw the Indian onto 
the floor. He took the revolver from Dan 
whose arm fell limply at his side. 

“This is a pretty howdy-do, eh Dan?" 
said the miser. 

Dan was busy getting himself loose from 
the rope. He felt rather weak. 

“Just lend a hand," said the miser to 
him. “We'll tie up Mr. Snake-in-the-Grass 
and see how he likes it." 

Together they bound the Indian while 
Dan explained how it had all happened. He 
took the bag of money from his shirt and 
handed it to Mr. Kelly. 

“I knew where it was,” he said. “I saw 
you last night. I guess you thought I was 
asleep." 


62 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

The old man’s eyes twinkled. 

“Not much I did. Don’t you suppose I 
know when a boy’s eyes are shut as tight as 
wax and he’s almost holding his breath that 
he’s not asleep.” 

Dan looked puzzled and a little red in 
the face. 

“I may be a miser but I’m not your old- 
fashioned kind that hides his wealth in an 
old shoe. No siree. Mine’s safe in a good 
bank, drawing interest. I took some out 
t’other day to make a little investment. 
This red scamp happened to hear about it, I 
suppose.” He leaned over and patted Dan’s 
arm. “I hope you’ll forgive me, sonny, but 
I planned all that last night on purpose. You 
see I wanted to find out if you was the real 
thing or if you was stringing me. I knew you 
needed money, and I wanted to test you — ” 

Dan’s face flushed hotly. 

“I’m very sorry, sir,” he said. 

“Now, don’t you get up on your high 
horse, sonny. You see I’ve been fooled by 
people before this. You seemed all right, 
but how was I to be sure? Of course, I 


TWO HEROES 


63 


didn't know it was all going to end like this. 
You're a pretty good Scout, all right, all 
right. And I guess old Growl's another, eh?” 

“He surely is,” said Dan, petting the 
dog and feeling greatly relieved. “If it had 
not been for him — ” 

“If it hadn't been for both of you — and 
now I am going to show you that I can be a 
pretty good Scout, too. What would you like 
to have me do for you, young man ?” 

Dan looked at him quickly. 

“Would you do anything I asked?” he 
questioned, eagerly. 

“Sure. You got it coming. Speak up, 
sonny.” 

“Well I'd like — most of all — that you'd 
— that you'd send some money, if you really 
have plenty, to your daughter and the kid- 
dies — and tell her you forgive her, and — ” 

“What you talking about, young man?” 
yelled the miser, getting up onto his feet ex- 
citedly. “Do you mean you'd rather have 
me do this than to give it to you — to send you 
on to your uncle's?” 

“I believe I would,” answered Dan. 


64 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

“Well,” Mr. Kelly sat down again, quick- 
ly. “Well, you are a queer one !” 

He thought for a long time. Then he 
looked up, a strange softness in his old eyes. 

“Fll do it, Danny. I'll send her some 
money and I'll tell her to come and visit me, 
if you’ll agree to take it to her yourself and 
let me pay your fare. And no talk about 
paying me back, either, if you please. She 
lives right on your way to Meadows. Them’s 
my conditions.” 

Dan felt rather gulpy. 

“I’ll do it,” he said, putting out his hand. 
“You are very kind and I’m sure you’ll never 
be sorry you took your daughter back.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE MISER’S DAUGHTER. 



THE MISER’S DAUGHTER. 


Immediately after the noon-day meal the 
miser forced the Indian, whose hands were 
still tied, to mount his horse while he and 
Dan climbed into the buckboard behind old 
Jerry. Dan was being taken to the station 
at Wapi. The Indian was to be handed over 
to the sheriff. While the boy drove, the old 
man kept a keen eye upon the Indian whose 
horse he led. 

Dan had said a reluctant good-by to 
brave old Growl. “When I get home, Fm 
going to send him a collar with a swastika. 
That’s the badge a Scout may give to his 
friends,” he said as he waved his hand to 
the collie which stood, watching them out of 
sight. 

As they approached the town, Dan be- 
came uneasy. He was feeling sorry for the 
Indian, who had not spoken a word since 
Mr. Kelly’s return. The miser had ques- 
tioned him about Dan’s ten dollars, but could 


68 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

get no answer. Finally the boy turned to 
Mr. Kelly. 

“I wish you would let the poor fellow 
go,” he said, hesitatingly. “Couldn’t you? 
He didn’t really do any harm.” 

“Didn’t do any harm ! No, but he might 
have. And he would yet if we turned him 
loose. The only thing to do for a scamp 
like him is to lock him up.” 

“I wish we could give him another 
chance,” sighed Dan. 

Mr. Kelly stared at Dan. “You’re the 
queerest youngster I ever knew. I’d think 
you’d want to get even with him for the way 
he treated you. He’s probably got your ten 
dollars, too.” 

“We don’t know that he has,” answered 

Dan. 

“Have your way,” said the miser, with 
a shake of his head. “You beat me.” He 
stopped the horse and spoke to the Indian. 
“This young fellow wants me to let you go. 
What do you think about it?” 

The Indian did not answer, but gazed 
hard at Dan. 


THE MISER’S DAUGHEER 


69 


Mr. Kelly got out of the buggy and un- 
tied the Indian's hands. Then he gave him 
the reins and said, “Now you get out. And 
if you ever show your ugly face around my 
ranch again, you know what will happen." 

The Indian rode up close to the buck- 
board and, leaning over, slipped something 
into Dan's hand. Then he spurred his horse 
and dashed away through the sage-brush. 

Dan opened his hand. In it lay a ten 
dollar bill. He held it out toward Mr. Kelly. 

“Your ten dollars! So he did take it 
after all. Well, I never before knew an In- 
dian to be touched by kindness." 

Soon they reached the station. Mr. Kel- 
ly in the meantime had given Dan full direc- 
tions how to find his daughter. The boy 
tried to persuade the old man to take the ten 
dollars the Indian had returned, but the mis- 
er shook his head. 

“If you don't need it, give it to the girl. 
And be sure to tell her to come to me, or I 
will go to her." 

When the train came, the miser helped 
Dan to his seat, and, taking his hand, said 


70 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

rather huskily, “You don’t know, sonny, how 
good it’s been for an old fellow like me — .” 
He broke off suddenly and gave a hard wring 
to Dan’s hand. — “So long, and take care of 
yourself. Let me hear from you some time.” 
And he was gone, walking swiftly to his old 
buckboard and never glancing back. 

Dan felt very sorry for the lonely, little 
old man. But when he once more had his 
daughter and her little children, he would be 
happy, Dan knew. 

He left the train at a town named Cald- 
well and went to a certain rooming-house as 
the miser had directed him. Early the next 
morning, clad once more in his neat blue 
suit (for Mr. Kelly had found the suit-case), 
he started in search of Mrs. Long, Mr. Kel- 
ly’s daughter. 

He inquired the way and several miles 
west of town he found the little “ranch” 
where she lived. It was a small, neat, frame 
house, sitting back from the road, surround- 
ed with young trees as yet of not much use 
for either shade or fruit. Near the house 
was a deep-banked stream which Dan learned 


THE MISER’S DAUGHTER 


71 


afterward was an irrigating ditch. 

It should have been quite a nice little 
home, yet there was something about it that 
made Dan feel sad. The house had not been 
painted for some time ; the grass and weeds 
had grown up in the little garden, unheeded. 
It seemed like a place that had been deserted. 
Yet the front door stood open, and a little 
dark-haired girl of three or four years was 
playing in the yard. 

Dan smiled at the child, as he walked up 
the path and knocked at the door. The lit- 
tle girl stared at him, went on with her play- 
ing, then stopped and came over to him. 

“My Mama cry all the time. She won’t 
let you in.” 

“Is your Mama’s name Long?” asked 

Dan. 

“My name’s Helen Long. My papa’s 
name — .” The child hesitated. “Do you 
know where my papa is?” she asked, lower- 
ing her voice almost to a whisper, and look- 
ing earnestly at Dan. 

Dan shook his head. “Isn’t he at home?” 
he asked. 


72 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

But the child seemed to have lost inter- 
est in him, and ran off to her play once 
more. 

Dan wondered what the girl meant, but 
he knocked again, much louder. After a 
time a woman came from an inner room and 
advanced toward the door. She had been 
crying, but it was not that which made Dan’s 
heart leap to his throat. There was some- 
thing in her dark eyes that hurt him. He had 
once seen a man who was being taken to pris- 
on for life in whose eyes was the same look. 
Dan didn’t know how to describe it, but it 
made him very unhappy, and at the same 
time frightened him. 

“What do you want?” The woman’s 
voice was sharp and quick. It reminded 
him of her father’s. 

Dan stood with his hat in his hand and 
smiled at the woman. Whenever he was 
frightened and didn’t know just what to do, 
he usually smiled. 

“I’m Daniel MacDonald. You’re Mrs. 
Long, aren’t you? I just came from your 
father, Mr. Kelly. He is your father, isn’t 


THE MISER’S DAUGHTER 


73 


he?” To both of his questions the woman 
nodded briefly. 

“He — ”, Dan hesitated. The woman’s 
eyes looked cold and yet seemed to have a 
kind of fire in them. He didn’t know just 
how he should go on. — “Your father is very 
lonely and he wants you to come to him or 
let him come to you. He — ” 

“Oh he’s lonely, is he?” The woman 
smiled but it was not a sweet smile. “He 
doesn’t care, I suppose, how lonely I may 
have been these five or six years!” 

“Oh, yes, he does. I should have said 
that at first. He cares very much, and he 
wants you to forgive him, and he sent you 
this — .” Dan took the money from his pock- 
et and handed it to her, eagerly. But the 
woman made no offer to take it. 

“It is too late for that now,” she said. 

“Too late!” repeated Dan. He could 
not understand what she meant. 

“Yes. Why didn’t he send help when 
my little boy was sick and when he died? 
Why didn’t he help when my husband was 
out of work and looked and looked for some- 


74 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

thing to do? Why didn't he — ?” 

The poor woman sank into a chair and 
wept, holding her hands tightly over her 
eyes. 

Dan stepped inside in his eagerness to 
comfort her. “I think he didn't know — 
about the little boy. He told me you had 
two children.” 

“It doesn't matter now — ”, the woman 
went on between her sobs, — “nothing mat- 
ters now. He got discouraged and began to 
drink. It was terrible. Then in anger one 
day I told him how I might have been rich 
with everything I wanted if it had not been 
for him. I told him — I told him to go away 
— to never come near me again. He went. 
— it is almost a month ago.” The woman 
was silent for a long time, then she burst 
out — “So what good will the money do me 
now? — what good — ?” 

“But there’s your little girl — and then, 
you might look for him and bring him 
back — ” 

“I wont take it,” cried the woman. “It 
is too late. I'll look after my girl — . Do 


THE MISER’S DAUGHTER 


75 


you hear me ? I wont take it !” 

Dan did not know what to do. There 
seemed to be no use in arguing with the wo- 
man. He turned away with a heavy heart, 
and had just stepped into the yard, when 
he heard the piercing scream of a child. He 
stopped short. The woman jumped up and 
dashed into the yard. 

“Helen ! My little girl — the ditch !” And 
she ran in the direction of the cry. Dan fol- 
lowed, throwing off his coat and hat as he 
ran. 

The woman stood on the high bank, 
wringing her hands. Dan saw two little 
arms just sinking below the water — perhaps 
for the last time — and he dived into the 
ditch. 

He was not long in finding her, but the 
little wet form was limp and still. He car- 
ried her up the bank, when the mother 
snatched her from him and began rocking 
her back and forth, sobbing, “She was all I 
had left and now she's gone — she's gone." 

“Give her to me, please," said Dan, 
quickly. “She'll be all right if we work hard. 


76 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 
Give her to me.” 

The woman yielded despairingly. Dan 
held the child's face and head downward, so 
that the water might run from her lungs. 

“Open her mouth and hold her tongue 
out!” he commanded. 

The woman obeyed in a dazed way. Dan 
listened closely. The child did not seem to be 
breathing. 

He placed her upon the ground then, 
face downward, turning her head a little to 
one side. He put his hands upon the small 
of her back and, stiffening his arms, pressed 
downward with all the weight of his body, 
forcing the air from her lungs. Then he re- 
laxed, letting the air rush in again ; and so on 
for several minutes. Then he listened once 
more, and his face brightened. “She's going 
to be all right. She's breathing now. You 
go in and get a warm blanket and some hot 
water bottles or flannel.” 

Again the woman obeyed silently. She 
seemed to feel that she could trust the boy. 

Soon little Helen was snugly wrapped 
in warm blankets and flannels and tucked in- 



“The little wet form was limp and still.” 




















■ 


















































































































































N 















THE MISER’S DAUGHTER 


77 


to her own little bed, where she quickly fell 
asleep — which was just what Dan wanted 
her to do. 

“Is everything all right now?” asked 
the mother anxiously. 

“Oh, yes. She will be as well as ever 
when she wakes up,” said Dan cheerfully. 

The woman looked at him with grateful 
tears in his eyes. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell 
me how you come to know so much — what to 
do for her, and everything.” 

“I am a Scout,” answered Dan. “You’ve 
heard of the Boy Scouts, haven’t you ? They 
are in every part of the country.” 

The woman nodded. “I know a little 
about them — not much.” 

“Well, the Scouts learn everything like 
this, — how to drag unconscious people from 
burning buildings and care for them; what 
to do for broken bones, mad dog bites, people 
who have been poisoned, and all sorts of ac- 
cidents. Our motto is, ‘Be prepared’ — so 
that we will know what to do if anything 
ould happen.” 

The woman arose and, coming over to 


78 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Dan, laid one hand upon his shoulder as she 
looked down into his eyes. 

“It's fine,” she said. “And I am surely 
thankful that you are a Boy Scout. I’ve 
been very wrong and selfish, but I was so 
discouraged. But now, I am not going to 
be proud and foolish any more. I’ll take the 
money if you want me to, and I’ll write to 
my father. Then I’ll try to find my husband.” 

“I’m so glad,” said Dan, as he smiled 
happily up into her face. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A MAN’S REDEMPTION. 



A MAN’S REDEMPTION. 


When Dan reached Weiser late that eve- 
ning, he felt his adventures were about 
over. He would leave on the “Pin” train, 
as the people about there called it, early the 
next morning for Meadows. He feared his 
uncle would be getting very anxious by this 
time, as he had not yet sent the letter writ- 
ten that eventful day at the Miser’s ; so he de- 
cided to send a telegram now to Meadows. 
Perhaps his uncle would not get it, but he 
took the chance, saying, merely, “Am coming 
to-morrow — Dont worry. Dan.” 

As the ticket-office was not yet open, he 
sauntered out onto the platform. He did not 
want to go to a hotel, for his money was run- 
ning rather low. He had given more to the 
miser’s daughter than the miser had intend- 
ed he should; therefore, he determined to 
save a little by sleeping on a bench in the 
waiting-room. 

It was too warm yet, however, for sleep. 


82 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

So he sat on a truck outside and gazed up the 
well-lighted street. A big electric sign spell- 
ing “Weiser” in flaming letters was stretched 
across the street near the station. It was an 
interesting-looking street and Dan had just 
made up his mind to walk up it and look 
about, when a man, evidently a tramp, took 
a seat on the same truck with Dan. His 
slouch hat was pulled low so that Dan could 
not see his face. But there was something 
about the way his shoulders drooped that 
reminded Dan of the look he had seen at 
first in the eyes of the miser's daughter. 

Dan was interested. He could not look 
away from the man. Perhaps it was be- 
cause the fellow sat so still. Then Dan saw 
him reach into his pocket and bring out a 
whiskey flask from which he took a long 
swallow. 

Dan shuddered. The man saw him and 
laughed a low, unpleasant laugh. 

“Want some?" he asked. 

“Oh, no!" said Dan, so quickly that the 
man laughed again. 

“You needn't be so scared. It's too pre- 


A MAN’S REDEMPTION 


cious to give away. You act as if it were 
poison.” 

“I guess I have always been taught to 
think of it in that way,” acknowledged Dan. 
“My father always told me that most of the 
crime and the unhappiness in the world came 
from that — from drink. And it's pretty 
true, in Chicago anyway. Then our Scout- 
master has told us how it would dwarf and 
injure our bodies and minds so that we could 
never be good Scouts.” 

The man was looking straight at Dan 
now. It was not a bad face, but a very un- 
happy one. 

“I used to think that way myself. But 
if your father and your — what d'ye call him ? 
— Scout-master had had as much trouble as 
I've had lately — if they had been looking for 
work for a year nearly, if they’d — well they’d 
be glad for something to make them forget 
once in a while.” 

“My father has been out of work, sir, 
and he’s been ill, and we’ve been pretty poor 
sometimes, but he thought whiskey would 
only make everything worse. And just yes- 


84 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

terday I saw a woman near Caldwell who was 
having a good deal of trouble. I guess she 
didn’t much want to live any longer, but she 
wasn’t taking anything to drown her troub- 
les. She’s had a little boy die ; and yesterday 
her little girl, the only one left, fell into an 
irrigating ditch and — ” 

The man grasped Dan’s arm. “A wo- 
man near Caldwell — was her name Long? 
Tell me—” 

“Yes,” said Dan beginning to under- 
stand. 

“And the little girl — Helen — did she — ” 
the man choked and stopped. 

“She’s all right now, sir. We had to 
work pretty hard, but she is as well as ever.” 

“Did you get her out of the ditch?” 

“Yes — but that wasn’t anything — ” 

“Wasn’t anything! To save my little 
girl? For it was my little Helen you saved. 
Do you understand ?” 

Dan could not answer. The man buried 
his face in his hands, and his shoulders 
shook. It was dreadful, Dan thought, to see 
a man cry like that. But he could think of 


A MAN’S REDEMPTION 


85 


nothing to say except “She's all right now, 
sir.” 

The man looked up and once more took 
out the whiskey flask. 

“I've been a coward and a beast,” he 
said, “and it's all due to this. Now — .” 
He gave a long look at the flask. It was still 
half full. Dan almost held his breath. Then 
the man hurled the bottle far out across the 
tracks. 

“I'm going to try once more to be a hu- 
man being,” he said. “I'm pretty sure I 
know where I can get work. The man half 
promised me, only I'd come to feel nothing 
was any use any more.” 

“But, first”, said Dan, “couldn't you go to 
see your wife ? She'd be so glad !” 

The man shook his head. No, she'll 
never forgive me — she's not the forgiving 
kind. Besides I've been tramping it for a 
month, and — ” 

Dan reached into his pocket impetuously 
and poured some money into the man's hand. 
“Get something to eat and a good night's 
rest. Then go to her! She wants you, I 


86 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

know. And she'll have some good news to 
tell you.” 

The man still shook his head. 

“But you've thrown away the bottle — 
that's what kept you from going back, wasn't 
it? And she wants you. I've just left her 
and I know. She needs you. You haven't 
any right to stay away, do you think?” 

“I suppose not — not if you're sure she 
wants me back.” 

“I'm sure,” said Dan, positively. 

The man took the money reluctantly. 

“I'll send it back to you just as soon — ” 

“I know,” said Dan. “I'll be at my 
Uncle's. Don't worry about it.” And he 
gave Mr. Long his uncle's address. 

The man shook Dan's hand warmly and 
walked away up the street. 

“After all it was more his money than 
mine,” said Dan to himself. 

He went inside the station then, and 
slept soundly the rest of the night. When 
the ticket office was opened next morning he 
walked up to the window and asked for a 
ticket to Meadows. When the clerk told 


A MAN’S REDEMPTION 


87 


him the cost, Dan for the first time felt a 
twinge of discouragement. He did not have 
enough. He threw down all the money he 
had, except a few cents with which to buy 
something to eat, and asked, “How far will 
that take me?” 

The man counted and answered, “That 
will land you about at Goodrich Creek, I be- 
lieve. That's about fifty miles this side of 
Council.” 

“All right,” said Dan, “make it Good- 
rich Creek.” 
















CHAPTER VIII. 


GOODRICH CREEK. 













GOODRICH CREEK. 


When the brakeman called “Goodrich”, 
along about noon, Dan stared out of the 
windows in amazement. Then he said to 
the brakeman, “Is this Goodrich Creek?” 

“Sure,” grinned the brakeman, “There's 
the Creek, — Here's the depot,” he pointed to 
the water tank. “That's the postoffice, and 
up there on that little hill's the school-house. 
The Carnegie Library hasn't been built yet, 
but we're expecting one any day. The resi- 
dences are concealed about behind trees and 
hills. Don't you like the town?” 

Dan got off without another word. The 
town, if it could be called a town, lay just at 
the foot of the mountains which rose blue 
and cool to the North. The “Post-office” was 
a weather-beaten shack. The school house, 
a one-roomed building, evidently from its 
size, was newer looking but also unpainted. 
It stood some distance back from the track, 
and to Dan it offered the one glimpse of hope 
in the landscape. 


92 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

He made his way towards it. And as 
he came inside the yard, from the open door 
trooped nine or ten boys and a few girls. 
He had arrived just at the noon recess. Al- 
ready Dan felt cheered. It was good to see 
children of his own age once more. 

One of the boys, a little fellow, was so 
misshapen and crippled that he could hardly 
walk. As another boy, the largest of them 
all, passed near him, the little lame one 
clutched his coat and said, “May I ride home 
behind you this evening, after school ? Mama 
can’t come for me.” 

“I should say not!” scoffed the big boy, 
“What do you think I want a little runt like 
you tagging me about for?” And as he sprang 
upon his horse, he cracked his whip across 
the head and shoulders of the cripple. 

The boy’s little wizened face grew livid 
with anger. He clinched his fists and shook 
them at the retreating horse. 

“I’ll get even with you yet, you big bully, 
I’ll get even.” 

The other boys, who were scattered 
about the yard with their lunch pails, seemed 


GOODRICH CREEK 


93 


to pay little attention to the quarrel. But 
Dan was white with anger and pity. He went 
up to the little cripple, and placed a hand 
on his arm. 

“That was a mean thing to do. Some 
one ought to thrash him,” he said. 

The little fellow was still shaking with 
rage. “I’ll get even with him, — I’ll kill him !” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t talk like that. You 
can’t help it by feeling that way. I guess the 
best way to get even with a fellow like that 
is to let him alone, or be kind to him and 
show him you’re not such a brute as he is.” 

“I hate him !” the boy cried again. 

The teacher appeared in the door just 
then. She was a slim, pretty girl of eighteen 
or nineteen. Dan liked her immediately. 

“What is the matter, Ezra?” she asked 
kindly. 

The boy was sobbing so, he could not 
answer. Dan spoke for him, telling what he 
had seen. 

“That is too bad. I did not think How- 
ard could act so. You come inside, Ezra, and 
eat your dinner. Tonight you shall ride 


94 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

home with me. Don’t cry, that’s a dear.” 
She put her arm about the crippled child, 
then turned to Dan with a smile. 

“And you, do you live about here?” 

“Oh, no; I live in Chicago. I’m on my 
way to Uncle’s, but I don’t know whether 
I’ll ever get there or not.” 

She begged that he would come inside 
and tell her all about it. And as he talked, 
she insisted that he share her lunch. Dan 
had had no breakfast, and he accepted the 
invitation gladly, if a little reluctantly. 

The girl, whose name, she said, was 
Alice Linton, listened sympathetically. When 
he had finished, she said, “You must send a 
letter to your Uncle immediately; then stay 
here with us until he comes for you. I shall 
take you home with me. We live four or 
five miles up the creek — my father and I. It 
will be lovely to have you with us. You’ll 
do that, wont you?” 

Dan agreed. He was glad to find a rest- 
ing place for awhile. He was beginning to 
feel that he had had enough wandering about 
the country for one time. 


GOODRICH CREEK 


95 


At Miss Linton’s suggestion, Dan wrote 
two letters, one to Meadows and another to 
the town in the Seven Devils district where 
his uncle lived. After these were posted, he 
sat in a vacant seat and watched the pupils. 
Besides the girls, the big boy, Howard Earns, 
and little Ezra, there were eight boys, rang- 
ing from about ten to fifteen years. Miss 
Linton had explained to him that they held 
school in the summer months, because most 
of the pupils lived too far away to come in 
the winter. 

As Dan looked at the boys, he thought, 
“Oh, what a dandy Patrol I could organize 
here.” And he began planning all the won- 
derful things a troop of Boy Scouts could do 
in a place like Goodrich. 

When school was out at four o’clock, a 
very good-looking young man rode up to the 
door on horse-back, and sat smiling as Miss 
Linton, also smiling, and blushing very pret- 
tily, Dan thought, came out to him. She 
called Dan out with her. 

“Mr. King, I want you to meet Daniel — 
my friend, Daniel MacDonald. He’s a Boy 


96 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Scout, and he's going to stay with us until his 
Uncle comes for him.” 

“A Boy Scout, how interesting! I 
know a little about the Scouts. Fm very glad 
to meet you, I'm sure.” He shook hands so 
warmly and smiled in such a friendly way, 
that Dan liked him immediately. 

Miss Linton took the crippled boy on 
her horse with her, and Mr. King asked Dan 
to ride with him. Then they started off up 
the lovely road into the mountains. Some- 
times they could see the creek far below, 
running swiftly in its high banks ; sometimes 
it was lost to view as they rode through fra- 
grant pine trees. 

Dan drank in long breaths of the won- 
derful air. It was so cool and good here in 
the mountains, and so beautiful. He felt 
very happy. Even little Ezra was smiling, 
while surely Miss Linton and Mr. King 
seemed very contented indeed. 

They had to turn aside from the main 
road to take Ezra to his home ; then they con- 
tinued on their way till they came to a neat 
little cabin, when Miss Linton spoke. “You'll 


GOODRICH CREEK 


97 


have to get on with me now, Daniel. Mr. 
King lives here.” 

“ Indeed, I shan't give him up yet, Miss 
Alice. I'll ride to the top of the hill with 
you, if I may.” 

From Mr. King's place, the road wound 
around the mountain, until almost at the 
top, they came upon the Linton cabin hud- 
dled back among the pine trees as if hiding 
from someone. 

Mr. King helped Dan down. “You 
know where I live now, and I'd like to have 
you drop in to see me any time. I’ll be eith- 
er at the cabin or at the saw-mill. You can 
see it from my place. There're some things 
I'd like to talk over with you about Boy 
Scouts.” 

He lifted his hat and, smiling at Miss 
Linton, jumped upon his horse and rode back 
down the road. 

Miss Linton opened the door of the log 
cabin and invited Dan in. The cabin seemed 
to have three or four rooms. One of these, 
opening from the main room, was a kind of 
“lean-to” shack with one window over which 


98 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

the shade was tightly drawn. 

As Dan entered, the girl went to the 
door of the “lean-to”, and called, “Daddy! 
come see what I have for you.” 

There was a silence, then the sound of a 
chair wheeled across the floor, the turning of 
a key in the lock, and an old man pushing 
himself along in an invalid chair, entered 
the room. 

He was a thin, sallow-faced old man, 
rather terrible to look at because of his pal- 
lor and his gauntness. His eyes had a shifty, 
nervous way of never looking long at any 
one thing. His hands, long and bony, kept 
pulling at the tassels of his bath-robe. 

Miss Linton introduced Dan to her fa- 
ther, and the old man began questioning him 
in the usual way, as to who he was, and where 
he was going. But all the time his eyes 
kept wandering toward the door through 
which he had come. Presently, he wheeled 
his chair across the floor and locked the door. 

Miss Linton laughed. “That is father’s 
work-shop. He does beautiful wood-carving; 
but he will never let anyone into his room, 


GOODRICH CREEK 


99 


not even me. You should show Daniel 
some of the things you do, Father.” 

“Perhaps, perhaps,” said the old man. 
“How about supper, Daughter?” and he re- 
sumed his questioning of Dan, while the girl 
busied herself in the little kitchen. 

After supper, they sat outside the cabin 
in the twilight, and the girl led Dan to talk 
of Boy Scouting in America. She was so in- 
terested, although she had read quite a bit 
about Boy Scouts, that she made Dan prom- 
ise that he would come down to the school in 
the morning and tell the boys what he had 
just told her. Then, as the old man had al- 
ready gone to bed, Miss Linton showed Dan 
to his room in the little attic, and went to her 
own room. 

It was warm in the attic and Dan could 
not sleep. He decided to go down and walk 
about among the pine trees until it grew 
cooler. It was already late, for he had been 
tossing about trying to sleep for some time. 

The house seemed very still and dark, 
but as he walked around it he saw a tiny ray 
of light from a hole in the shade of the little 


100 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

“lean-to” window, and then a shadow thrown 
upon the blind. 

Dan stopped in wonder. The old man 
had gone to bed long ago, and no one else was 
ever allowed in the work-room, the girl said. 
Could it possibly be burglars ? 

He went cautiously to the window and 
peered through the crack. Then for a few 
seconds he stared in amazement. There in 
his black skull-cap and bath-robe, sat the old 
man, bending over a small machine with 
which he seemed to be stamping pieces of 
paper about the size of a ten-dollar bill. He 
was intent upon his work. But suddenly, as 
though he had heard some sound, he put the 
machine away in a beautifully carved box 
that looked like a small chest, and blew out 
the candle. 

Dan wondered what the papers had to 
do with wood-carving, but there was some re- 
lation he supposed. The old man, like him- 
self, had probably not been able to sleep. 

After a while Dan returned to the house. 
There was a light in the little living room, 
and Alice Linton stood there. Her face was 


GOODRICH CREEK 


101 


flushed and her eyes bright, whether with 
anger or tears, Dan could not tell. She was 
surprised to see him. “Oh,” she said, when 
he explained that he had been out for a walk. 
“I'm sorry. But I was just going to your 
room to call you. You see Father — Father 
is a very old man, Daniel, and he has been 
ill a long time. Old men are apt to be a lit- 
tle queer. And he — for some reason — he 
has taken a notion that he does not want you 
to stay here. He is very determined. I was 
just trying to make up my mind what to 
do—.” 

Dan's face flushed. Could the old man 
have seen him peering through the curtain? 
Surely not. He had never once looked in 
that direction. “I'll go, of course,” said Dan 
cheerfully. “Don't you worry. I think Mr. 
King would let me stay with him.” 

“I'm sure he would, but I am so sorry. 
I had so wanted you to stay with me. But 
you'll come to school tomorrow, wont you?” 

Dan promised, and brought his things 
from the attic. The girl insisted upon walk- 
ing with him a part of the way, and showing 


102 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


him a path through the woods, a short cut 
that led directly down the side of the moun- 
tain to Mr. King’s. 


CHAPTER IX. 


DAN'S NEW PATROL. 




/ 









































DAN'S NEW PATROL. 

A light still burned in Mr. King's cabin. 
Dan knocked. Mr. King opened the door, 
and greeted him heartily, although he could 
not help being a little surprised. 

“I guess you weren't expecting me quite 
so soon,” said Dan to him. 

“I said, ‘any time', Daniel. Come right 
in and tell me what's happened!” 

Dan explained as best he could. “He's 
a queer old chap!” said Mr. King. “He 
won't allow me around either. You see, I 
want to marry his daughter, but she won't 
leave him, and he won't have me live with 
them, so I guess I’m doomed to wait for a 
while.” 

“Funny he doesn’t want anyone in his 
work-shop. I think, maybe, that's what 
made him angry at me.” 

“Why, how is that?” asked Mr. King. 

Then Dan told how he had seen the 
light, when he thought everyone asleep ; had 
looked in and had seen the old man with the 


106 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


queer machine and slips of paper. Mr. King 
was silent for some time, staring into the 
fire. 

“Well, that is strange, isn’t it? Don’t 
you say anything about it to anyone else, will 
you, Dan?” 

“Certainly not, if you wish it,” answered 
Dan, wondering very much. 

Mr. King paced the floor for some time, 
then suggested that they had better both go 
to bed. But neither was able to sleep; so 
Mr. King asked Dan to talk to him about 
Boy Scouts, which Dan very willingly did. 

“I’ll tell you what you ought to do, Dan”, 
said Mr. King. “You ought to tell the Good- 
rich chaps about Boy Scouting.” 

“Miss Linton thought that, too. She 
made me promise to go with her to school in 
the morning and maybe talk to the boys.” 

“That will be fine. And if they’re inter- 
ested, I’ll help them organize after you’re 
gone. I can write to the Boy Scout Head- 
quarters for information. They're in New 
York, aren’t they?” 

“Yes, Fifth Avenue building, I believe. 


DAN’S NEW PATROL 


107 


It would be lots of fun to start them. I was 
thinking, myself, what a fine patrol one could 
have here. They're just about the right 
number and ages." 

The next morning, Dan rode one of Mr. 
King's ponies to school with Miss Linton. In 
place of the usual morning exercises, she 
told the children something about Boy 
Scouts : that they had first been organized by 
an Englishman by the name of Sir Robert 
Baden-Powell, and that now there were Boy 
Scouts in almost every country. A Scout, 
she said, was generally a soldier chosen be- 
cause he was brave and clever to go ahead of 
the army in war time and find out where the 
enemy was. But there must also be Scouts 
in times of peace, men who were brave and 
fearless, who were not afraid of danger, and 
who knew what to do in case of accident or 
trouble of any kind — men who could go out 
into the mountains and the forests or on the 
plains, and find their way anywhere; who 
were able to read meaning in the smallest 
signs and foot-tracks. These men must 
know how to look after their health if they 


108 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


were far away from doctors ; they must be 
strong and plucky, and always ready to help 
others in distress, even to risking their own 
lives. Scouting trained boys to be all this. 
And Miss Linton told them if they wanted to 
organize a Patrol, Daniel MacDonald would 
help them. 

At recess every boy stayed in his seat, 
except the big boy, Howard Earns, who 
laughed sneeringly at them. Even the little 
crippled Ezra sat in a back seat and pretend- 
ed to be reading, although all the time he was 
listening. 

Dan began by telling them that if they 
really wanted to organize Mr. King would 
help them to get their charter from Head- 
quarters in New York, and would find out 
what ever it was necessary to do, as Dan, 
himself, did not know all the details of be- 
ginning a Patrol. 

Then as the boys seemed to want to go 
ahead, Dan showed them some of the salutes, 
the secret signs, patrol call, and Scout songs 
and whistles. He also drew some of the 
Scout signs on the black-board, and told how 


DAN’S NEW PATROL 


109 


Scouts made the sign of their Patrol on the 
ground or on trees, in order that other Scouts 
might know there was a fellow-Scout near, 
and help him if he were in trouble. He told 
them about the knot in the tie, and that every 
Scout must try to do a “good turn” for some- 
body each day. 

The bell rang and Dan promised to tell 
them more of Scout games and signals at 
noontime. 

The boys had all left the school-room to 
eat their lunches, and Dan was just going to 
join them, when he heard a sound as of 
smothered sobs coming from behind the 
school house. He looked, and there on the 
ground lay the little crippled boy crying 
heart-brokenly. Dan knelt and put an arm 
about the child. 

“Why, Ezra, what's the matter?” 

The boy could not answer for a while, 
then sobbed, “ I can't ever be a Boy Scout 
'cause I'm all crippled, and — and I'd like to 
be.” 

Dan thought hard for a moment. He, 
also, had believed that it was impossible for 


110 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


the cripple to belong. But now he saw a 
way. 

‘‘Why, yes, you can, too, Ezra. Of course 
you won’t be able to be in some of the drills 
and marches, and go on ‘hikes’ with the other 
boys, but that is not all there is to being a 
Scout. You can do nice things for people, 
and learn to tell something about the weath- 
er from sunsets and all that, and how to tie 
different knots; and then you can learn to 
know plants and trees. There’s a dandy 
game called the ‘Kim’ game. You’d be fine 
at that. Kim was a little boy who lived in 
India. I’ll tell you all about him some day. 
But there was a fellow who wanted to train 
Kim to be a kind of detective. To be a good 
detective or Scout or anything, you must be 
observing — you must be able to see things 
correctly, and tell what you see. So we have 
a game we play, something like this man 
taught Kim. Somebody puts together about 
twenty small things, like buttons and marbles 
and bits of pencils and strings, while we have 
our eyes closed. Then we look at them for a 
minute, and try to write down all the things 


DAN’S NEW PATROL 


111 


we have seen. After a while you can remem- 
ber maybe sixteen or more out of twenty. 

“When the boys go on hikes or go camp- 
ing, you can play you go with them in your 
mind. My mother told me once about a lit- 
tle girl who had to lie in bed all the time, and 
could never play with the other children ; so 
she just imagined games and things any way, 
and had mighty good times all to herself. 
When she got older she wrote about the 
things she did, and people she met in her 
mind, and became a famous author.” 

Ezra had quit crying, but he got up and 
started away from Dan with a sad shake of 
his head. “I can’t be a Boy Scout anyway. 
I’m not good enough. I hate Howard Earns, 
and I am going to get even with him, too. I 
couldn’t be a Boy Scout and do that.” And 
Ezra hobbled out of sight around the corner 
of the building. 

Dan felt very sorry for him, but could 
not think of anything else to do ; so he went 
on to his waiting Scouts. 



CHAPTER X. 


HOW EZRA GOT EVEN. 



HOW EZRA GOT EVEN. 


After school that day Dan again met his 
Scouts and drilled them in songs, yells, and 
signals. He was feeling a bit down-hearted, 
partly because of little Ezra, and partly on 
account of Howard Earns. Neither was in 
school that afternoon. Ezra had had a 
chance to ride home at noon and, as his moth- 
er would be away (she nursed the sick at 
Goodrich Creek) and could not come for him 
in the evening, he had gone, his eyes still red 
with weeping, his poor, little crippled body 
looking very lonely and forlorn. Then Dan 
had wanted so much to be able to persuade 
the Earns boy to become a Scout. He would 
make such a good leader if he were not so 
wild, for he was older than the other boys 
and he was quick and intelligent. But How- 
ard, too, had been away from school that 
afternoon. Some of the boys said he was 
breaking in a new horse. 

But, though Dan could not help thinking 
of these two who were outside his little band, 


116 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


he was proud of the others and planned with 
them for a fox-and-hound game the next day, 
which was Saturday. They were to meet at 
a point farther up the Creek about three in 
the afternoon. Dan was to be the fox since 
he knew the game better than the others. 
The rest were to be hounds. Dan would 
start running ahead of them, hiding behind 
trees or bushes until they lost sight of him; 
then he was to leave signs by which they 
might track him — broken twigs and foot- 
prints and various other marks. He also 
taught them the whistle signals and signals 
by fire — smoke-fire by day and flame-fire by 
night. A fire was made in the ordinary 
way; then when it was burning well, green 
leaves and grass were added to make it 
smoke, then the fire was covered with a 
damp blanket and the blanket removed to let 
up a puff of smoke, then put over the fire 
again. The size of the puff depended upon 
how long one held the blanket from the fire. 
For a short puff it was held up while one 
counted two ; for a long puff the blanket was 
held up while one counted six. 


HOW EZRA GOT EVEN 


117 


Then each boy tied a knot in his tie and 
was to tell the next day of a kindness done to 
some one. 

As they were about to leave, one of the 
boys, Jim Duffy reached into his pocket and 
took out a bag of tobacco and some ciga- 
rette papers. He saw Dan watching him and, 
rather shame-facedly he held them out to the 
young Scout leader. “Have a smoke ?” he 
asked, as boldly as he could. Dan took the 
tobacco and cigarette papers and stood hold- 
ing them a moment. He looked at the boys. 

“This is something a Boy Scout never 
does. And I’ll tell you why. You go to your 
physiologies or ask any doctor what smoke 
will do to your eyes, and ears, and nose, and 
throat, and lungs. To be a first-class Scout 
or to be any kind of a Scout a fellow must be 
able to see and hear and smell well. He can’t 
go on long tramps and do cross-country runs 
if his lungs aren’t in good shape. That is 
why we Scouts don’t use tobacco.” 

He looked straight into Jim Duffy’s eyes. 
Jim hung his head and flushed deeply. 

“Do you want this back, Jim, or do you 


118 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


want to be a Scout?” 

For a moment all the boys were very 
still. Then Jim lifted his head and answered a 
little huskily, “Throw the stuff away!” 

Dan raised his arm and hurled the tobac- 
co as far as he could. Then he held out his 
hand to Jim. Jim took it, the tears in his 
eyes. The other boys gave three big cheers 
for the Scouts and were once more starting 
for home, when Dan, glancing up the road, 
saw a small, black object creeping toward 
them. At first he almost held his breath, 
wondering if it could be a bear. He had not 
seen one yet. Then, as it crept nearer, he 
started on a run toward it, calling for the 
boys to follow him. When he reached the 
creeping object, he stooped and took it up in- 
to his arms. 

It was Ezra, the little cripple. His face 
was very white, streaked with perspiration 
and dust, and he murmured several times, 
“He's a Lion ! He's a Lion !” Then seeming 
to recognize Dan, he said,” “He's so white 

and still. Oh ”. And his head fell back 

on Dan’s shoulder. 


HOW EZRA GOT EVEN 


119 


They carried him to the school-house, 
gave him water, and washed his face. Miss 
Linton had gone home, but the school-house 
was still open, for one of the boys acted as 
janitor. When Ezra could speak once more, 
the boys were able to understand. 

“Howard Earns~he's hurt. He's so white 
and still, and there's blood on his head. His 
horse ran away, right by our place. It's a 
wild one he was trying to break. Oh, can't 
some of you go quick. There wasn't anybody 

at home or anywhere near, and I ." He 

bent his head upon his arm and began to 
sob. 

Quickly Dan thought what must be done. 
Four of the boys who had horses were to go 
immediately to Howard, taking along any 
older persons they might find along the way. 
One was to ride on to the Earns place to tell 
Howard's people. “Isn't there a 'phone any- 
where near?" asked Dan. “We must have a 
doctor." 

“The nearest is five miles, and it's only 
ten to Council," said one boy. 

Dan started for his horse. It seemed 


120 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


the only thing to do. 

“How about the hand-car?" asked an- 
other boy. 

“Is there a hand-car near?" inquired 
Dan, quickly. 

“Section house about half a mile up the 
track." 

“One of you fellows come with me," 
said Dan, as he started for his horse. But 
Jim Duffy interrupted him. 

“Let me go ! My father is section boss 
and I know he will go for us. One of the 
boys and I will help. I know just where to 
go. Let me !" 

So Dan gave Jim and another lad Mr. 
King's horse and turned again to Ezra. He 
pushed the hair back from the wet, little face 
and said, “Tell us all about it now, Ezra." 
And Ezra told his story. 

“I was home all alone, for Mother was 
with Mrs. Brown who is sick. I was sitting 
outside, thinking what you'd told me about 
Boy Scouts, when Howard rode by on his 
new horse. The horse must have got scared 
at me or something, for he began to buck and 


HOW EZRA GOT EVEN 


121 


plunge dreadfully. Then he started to run 
and somehow he threw Howard off right 
against an old stump. At first, I laughed. I 
hated Howard Earns and he always thought 
he was so smart with horses. Then when 
he didn’t get up, I went to him and oh! he 
was so still and white, and — and — dreadful. 
And I was glad for a moment when I thought 
how he had always treated me. 'Now I’ll 
get even’ I said. Then I thought what you 
told me — that the best way to get even was 
to do something kind, and all at once I didn’t 
hate him any more. I just wanted to do 
something to help him right away. But 
there wasn’t anybody near. Earns are the 
closest neighbors and they live four miles on 
up the trail. Then I remembered that you 
boys were going to stay after school, and it 
was only a mile and a half. But — but you 
see I can’t walk very well ; so I had to crawl, 
but I kept thinking of that ‘Een Gonyama’ 
song. You said it meant 'He is a Lion ! Yes, 
he is better than that ; he is a hippopotamus !’ 
And I kept saying it all the way, and making 
believe I was a hippopotamus.” 


122 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


Dan’s eyes filled with tears when he 
thought of the little cripple creeping all that 
long way over stones and rough roads and 
dust. “You got even, Ezra, you surely did,” 
he said, and unpinning the medal of which he 
had always been so proud, he fastened it to 
Ezra’s shirt. 

“You’re a real Scout,” he said. And the 
two boys who were with Dan gave three rous- 
ing cheers for Ezra, the Boy Scout, and sang 
“Een Gonyama” at the top of their voices, 
while the little cripple listened with shining 
face. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE COUNTERFEITER. 



THE COUNTERFEITER. 

While the boys were still singing, a man 
rode up with Dan’s horse. He had been 
passing when the boys overtook the section 
men, and Jim Duffy asked him to bring back 
the horse. The boys and men, he said, were 
already well on their way toward Council. 
The man himself was going to the Earns 
place, and offered to take Ezra home. 

Dan rode along with them until they 
came to the crossings. He wanted very 
much to know how Howard was, but felt he 
should be taking Mr. King’s horse on home. 
As he was debating which to do, one of the 
boys came down the road from the direction 
of the accident and said that Howard was 
much better and was conscious now. He was 
at Ezra’s home and his people were with him, 
also Ezra’s mother who was the best nurse in 
the country. 

Dan felt greatly relieved, and waving 
good-by to the tired but happy little Ezra, he 


126 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


rode swiftly toward home, for he feared Mr. 
King would be worrying. 

Mr. King, however, was quietly splitting 
wood in front of his cabin, and called a 
cheery “hello” to Dan. 

The boy had just begun telling the story 
of Howard and Ezra, when three horsemen 
rode up and stopped. One of them, a large 
man with a star on his coat, nodded familiar- 
ly to Mr. King. “Could you tell us, Mr. King, 
if there's an old fellow named Linton living 
near here ?” 

“Just follow the road to the top of the 
hill,” answered Mr. King. Then as the men 
rode on, Mr. King stood still, staring after 
them. 

“The Sheriff!” he exclaimed, “What 
could he — ” Then his face grew suddenly 
white. He sprang upon his horse which 
stood near with its saddle still on, and calling 
to Dan, “Just stay here, Daniel! I'll be back 
soon,” he dashed away up the path through 
the woods toward Mr. Linton's. 

Dan was left wondering very much what 
the trouble could be; but as he had no way of 


THE COUNTERFEITER 


127 


finding out, he decided to finish splitting the 
wood and wait. 

It was not long till Mr. King returned. 
His horse was panting from his swift climb. 
Mr. King dismounted. Dan noticed that he 
carried under his arm a box, looking some- 
thing like a small chest, beautifully carved. 
Dan remembered instantly where he had seen 
such a box, — in the work-room of Mr. Lin- 
ton’s home. But he was not able as yet to 
comprehend the meaning. Mr. King entered 
the house with the box, asking Dan if he 
would put away the horse. 

Dan did so, and soon after joined Mr. 
King who was once more calmly splitting 
wood. Dan finished his interrupted story. 
Mr. King listened attentively, exclaiming, 
“Good for little Ezra! I’ll keep my eye on 
the lad, and do what I can for him.” 

There came the sound of horses’ feet, 
and the three horsemen again stopped in 
front of Mr. King’s cabin. But this time 
they dismounted. 

“This is Mr. Royce of the secret serv- 
ice,” said the sheriff, introducing one of the 


128 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


men. “We’ve traced some counterfeit bills 
to this part of the country, and we were pret- 
ty certain, from a number of clues, that our 
man was a fellow named Linton. But it 
seems we were mistaken. Anyway we’re 
pretty sure the counterfeiter is somewhere 
in this region. Mr. Royce thinks, just to be 
sure, that we had better make a thorough 
search. You don’t mind, Mr. King, our go- 
ing through your cabin, do you? It’s just 
for the formality of the thing.” 

Mr. King split another stick in two, 
then let his ax fall. “Just help yourselves,” 
he answered quietly. The men entered the 
cabin. 

Dan watched Mr. King wonder ingly. 
The man had stepped to a large tree near the 
cabin, and stood leaning against it, looking 
out over the valley below, whose dark pines 
the last rays of the sun were just touching 
with lovely light. He stood so still, that 
Dan, too, was afraid to move; nor did he 
turn when the men appeared. The sheriff 
carried the box that Mr. King had just put in 
his cabin, and, walking over to Mr. King, he 


THE COUNTERFEITER 


129 


opened it. 

“ Perhaps you can explain the meaning 
of this?” said the sheriff. 

“Perhaps,” said Mr. King with a queer 
little smile. 

“Fm very sorry, but Pm afraid — ” The 
sheriff took from his pocket a pair of hand- 
cuffs. 

Mr. King held out his hands without a 
word. 

Dan was thinking very hard. So that 
was a counterfeiter’s outfit he had seen that 
night in Mr. Linton’s work-shop — a sure 
enough counterfeiter’s ! And these men 
thought that Mr. King was that counterfeit- 
er. He himself knew better. Had he not 
seen the old man at work? But why — of 
course! Mr. King was doing this to save 
Miss Linton’s father! But it did not seem 
quite right. When he knew the truth, ought 
he not to tell? Yet Mr. King would probab- 
ly be angry with him for interfering. There 
was just one person who ought to stop this, 
and Dan decided to see that person imme- 
diately. 


130 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

Mr. King asked permission to leave 
some written orders about the mills, and the 
men followed him into the cabin to watch 
him while he wrote. 

This was Dan's opportunity. He ran to 
the stable and untied the horse. Without 
waiting for a saddle, and with only the rope 
for a bridle, he sprang astride and urged the 
horse up the steep trail to Mr. Linton's. 

He dashed into the house. There was no 
time to lose — no time to explain to the sur- 
prised girl who was preparing her father's 
supper. 

Dan went straight up to the old man. 
“They're taking Mr. King to prison. He 
took the blame for you. It doesn't seem quite 
fair—" 

“What’s the matter with you, you crazy 
boy?" demanded the old man. 

“Your counterfeiting outfit. He took 
it to his home, and the sheriff found it, and 
he thinks — ". 

“Alice — what ails him — ." The old 
man's hands went up to his white face. His 
sunken eyes stared at Dan. “So that was 


THE COUNTERFEITER 


131 


it. That's where it went to. He must have 
come in through the window. They were 
here and searched my house, but they 
couldn’t find anything — they couldn’t find 
anything.” He rubbed his old hands togeth- 
er and chuckled, “I wondered where it’d 
gone.” 

“But they’re taking him to jail! He 
oughtn’t to have to suffer for you. You’re 
old and they’d be kinder to you. They might 
not send you to prison — .” 

“Father, what is it? I can’t under- 
stand.” Alice Linton went and knelt beside 
the old man, taking his hand. 

There was a long silence in the room. 
Then the old man raised his trembling hand 
and placed it on the girl’s head. 

“Yes, you’re right,” he said slowly, 
speaking to Dan. “I’m old and they’re 
young — both of them. She’s sacrificed for 
me all her life — it isn’t fair, as you say. 
But don’t stand there staring, Boy. Go as 
fast as you can. Stop those men and bring 
them here. D’ye hear? — there, girlie, don’t 
cry. I’ll tell you all about it.” 


132 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


Dan waited for no second bidding, but 
was off down the hill again. The men were 
just ready to depart, and were grouped 
about the empty stable wondering what had 
become of Mr. King's horse. 

“Mr. Linton wants to see you all at his 
house immediately," Dan called to them, 
breathlessly. “Please come. It's very im- 
portant." 

The men all stared at him. But that it 
was very important was evident from his 
face. They followed him silently. 

Alice Linton was still kneeling by her 
father, her face buried in his lap. One of 
the old man's hands feebly stroked the bright 
hair. He turned and faced the men with 
something of a smile on his thin lips. 

“Well, you fellows made a mistake this 
time — quite a mistake. You're taking the 
wrong man. I'm the counterfeiter. You'll 
find some new bills hidden in a log in my 
work-shop there. He found it out, somehow, 
I don't know how, and tried to save me. He's 
the right sort, I'm glad to know that. Here, 
Allie, girl, don't cry. He's safe now. Go to 


THE COUNTERFEITER 


133 


him. He'll take care of you — better care 
than I — The old man's hand crept to his 
throat. His head fell forward upon his 
breast. 

There was no sound but the sobs of the 
girl. Then Mr. King with an exclamation, 
stepped forward and lifted the old head. He 
leaned over close and listened. Then he 
gave the men a significant look and, stooping 
lifted the weeping girl. 

Slowly, with bowed heads, the men left 
the cabin. Dan went out also, and sat under 
a pine tree, and watched the stars come out. 
It was very sad, but it was best after all, 
he thought. Mr. King could take care of 
Alice. And the old man would never have 
to fear the prison now. 



CHAPTER XII. 


THE END OF THE PILGRIMAGE. 



THE END OF THE PILGRIMAGE. 


The next afternoon, Dan walked slowly 
through the pine trees on his way to see How- 
ard Earns. He felt very sad, for that 
morning they had buried old Mr. Linton. 
Miss Linton was to stay with a friend a lit- 
tle way down the creek from Mr. King’s, and 
then, after a while she and Mr. King would 
be married. Dan was lonely, too, and home- 
sick. He wished his uncle would come for 
him. It seemed a long, long time ago since 
he first came to Goodrich. Yet it was only 
the day before yesterday! He wondered if 
he would ever see his father and mother 
again. Then he shook himself. There was 
no use in being gloomy. Everything would 
come right in the end. 

He found Howard much better. The 
doctor had come and set the broken should- 
er and dressed the cut in his head. He would 
be well again before very long. 

Little Ezra, who was reading to Howard 


138 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

in the next room, came and took Dan’s hand, 
and smiling at him, whispered, "He’d like 
to talk to you.” Then, as they entered the 
room, he continued, "He thinks he wants to 
be a Boy Scout, too.” 

Howard held out his well hand and took 
Dan’s. "I’m sorry the way I acted yesterday. 
After what this little fellow’s done for me, 
and the way the other boys have treated me, 
I believe I’d like to be a Scout, too, if you 
think I’m good enough.” 

"I should say so,” cried Dan, very hap- 
py once more. "That’s the best news I’ve 
heard for a long time !” Then he sat by the 
bed and told Howard everything about Boy 
Scouts that Ezra had not already told, until 
it was time for him to meet the other boys. 

He found most of them already waiting 
for him at the appointed place. They began 
telling him how they had got the knots out 
of their ties. Most of them had done some- 
thing nice for Howard Earns ; some had tak- 
en him flowers; some had done his chores 
for him; some had sat with him during the 
night. One boy had carried in wood for 


THE END OF THE PILGRIMAGE 139 


Granny Evans, a poor and almost helpless 
old woman, living alone. 

Another boy said, “I didn’t do anything 
like the others. But I did my own chores 
without being told. Always before, Mother 
has had to tell me to do things — bring water 
and wood and all that. Last night I did it 
myself before she had a chance to tell me. 
You should have seen the smile she gave me ! 
She’ll never have to tell me again.” 

“Good !” said Dan. He was very proud 
of all his Scouts. 

Another boy came up just then, carry- 
ing a “twenty-two” in one hand and in the 
other he held up a little dead bird. “Got him 
on the wing!” he said proudly. 

Dan sadly took the little dead body. “It 
can never fly again nor sing,” he said. 

“Oh, that’s only a sparrow. They can’t 
sing, anyway.” 

“No, but they have a right to live and 
be happy. And perhaps there’s a nestful of 
little baby birds, somewhere.” 

The boy began to look embarrassed, but 
he could not yet fully understand. “Why, 


140 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 

shouldn’t a Boy Scout learn to handle a gun ?” 

'‘Yes. But a Scout never kills any wild 
thing unless it is necessary for food or self- 
protection. If he wants to learn to shoot, 
he shoots at targets or harmful things, not 
at little innocent birds.” 

“I’m sorry,” said the boy. “I didn’t 
know that.” 

Then the game of “Fox and Hound” be- 
gan. 

Dan ran ahead, sometimes allowing the 
boys to gain on him, sometimes leaving them 
far behind. He had gone thus some distance, 
and it was already growing dusk, when he 
gave the signal to rally, and then hid him- 
self to wait till the boys should find him. He 
was lying on the top of a small plateau. Be- 
low him was a steep, rocky drop to the road 
which several hundred feet on up the hill 
made a quick curve and was lost to view. 

Dan was bending over the rocky projec- 
tion, wondering whether the boys would 
come upon him across the plateau, or wheth- 
er they had taken the road, when he heard 
low-toned voices. He drew back, thinking 


THE END OF THE PILGRIMAGE 141 


some of the boys were about to find him. 

“It’s coming, just down the road there. 
We’ll get behind the curve up yonder. You 
fire at the tire. It ought to be a pretty good 
haul.” 

Dan, wondering, looked again over the 
cliff. Down the road, coming toward him 
were two bright lights. Automobile lamps! 
And then he understood. 

He must stop that car! But how was 
he to get down to the road? 

The drop was not very far, perhaps 
twenty feet. If there were any footholds at 
all, he could do it. He must try, any way. 
The car was almost upon him. He seized a 
growth of weeds at the top, and, dropping 
his full length, reached for a foot-hold be- 
low. He finally found something. Then, 
with one hand, he groped for another hold, 
and finding it, he braced himself and drop- 
ped. He fell in the soft dirt, almost under 
the approaching car. The driver uttered an 
exclamation and stopped as quickly as pos- 
sible, as Dan arose and held up his arms in 
signal that all was well. 


142 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


“Hey! young fellow, I almost got you 
that time,” said a voice that sounded strange- 
ly familiar. 

“Can you turn back, sir,” gasped Dan. 
“There’re a couple of 'hold-ups' just around 
the bend. They're going to puncture your 
tire, and — ” 

And just then from up the road came a 
series of yells that sounded as if a band of 
wild Indians had been set loose — 

“Een Gonyama, Een Gonyama,” sang 
eight merry voices, and Dan's Scouts came 
rushing around the curve toward him. 

“Old Fox is caught,” yelled Jim Duffy. 

“What’s all this?” asked the owner of 
the automobile — “Are these your ‘hold-ups’ ?” 

“No, sir, these are my Scouts,” said Dan. 

“There were a couple of fellows hiding 
around the bend up there. They skipped 
when they heard us coming. We thought at 
first it was you,” explained Jim. 

Then Dan told his story. The man came 
close up to him and held out his hand. “Well 
I’m mighty obliged to you, my lad, you and 
your Scouts.” 



“Hey! young- fellow, I almost got you that time.” 












* 





















































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THE END OF THE PILGRIMAGE 143 


The light from the car shone full upon 
his face. Dan stared up at him and he stared 
back at Dan. 

“Well, I never! Daniel MacDonald!” 

“Uncle Will!” 

And the Scouts, in amazement, saw the 
big man seize Dan in his arms and hug him 
hard. 

“Many a sleepless night you've caused 
your old Uncle Will, you little scalawag. But 
we won't talk about that now. I waited sev- 
eral days in Meadows for you, and then de- 
cided to come on to Council. That's how I 
missed getting your letter. The postmaster 
sent it back to Council, and I got it just today. 

“I'm very sorry to have caused you wor- 
ry. But I thought I'd manage all right, 
somehow — .” 

“And you have, laddie. You've managed 
to win the Bronze Cross, if your old Uncle 
knows anything about it. Shall we go on 
now and get your things?” 

“Mr. King will be glad to have us stay 
another night with him, I'm sure. And then 
we can go tomorrow. They've all been so 


144 THE WINNING OF THE BRONZE CROSS 


kind to me.” 

“All right. Pile in, boys, all of you. 
There’s always room in my car for a Boy 
Scout.” 

So once more they started up the hill. 
And nine boyish voices rang clearly and joy- 
ously through the night — 

“Een Gonyama, Gon yama 
Invooboo. 

Yah bo! Yah bo! 

Invooboo.” 


— THE END — 




























































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